


Resolved

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Traits, M/M, Pet Play, Puppy Play, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 14:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11292579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Thranduil receives an afflicted subject.





	Resolved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ephers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephers/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for ephers’ “16. Animals Ears/Tail glorfindel/erestor or thranduil/meludir” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/161379570810/au-prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s already had word, of course—a messenger always runs ahead to inform him, and before any new situation should arise before his throne, Thranduil already knows what he’ll decree. Tonight, for once, he isn’t so sure. The path before him isn’t clear, neither the consequences nor possible rewards, and won’t be until he assess the latest development with his own eyes. He waits, albeit mildly impatiently, as his guards enter his throne room, mere specks in the distance, coming ever closer. 

The smallest one is in the front, striding forward with his head lowered, though his steps never falter; all of Thranduil’s staff know his halls well, and no elf could ever stumble down to the pits below. The larger guards that flank their charge look anywhere but at him. They’re an embarrassed, sorry lot, while Thranduil himself keeps his head high. They live in turbulent times, and strange things are always prone to happen in his new _Mirk_ wood. He deals with it all accordingly; a king doesn’t have the luxury of simply averting his gaze.

In this case, he wouldn’t wish to. The troop finally reaches him, five of them fanning out along the dais just below his throne. Each bows their head, the honey-haired youth in the middle bowing lowest of all. It highlights his latest additions, licked pale auburn in the candlelight. At the front, Tauriel clears her throat and explains, “He wandered too close to the wizard Radagast’s home, my king, and he was... cursed.” She stumbles over the last word, and Thranduil lifts a brow; no, that isn’t quite right. Meludir bites his bottom lip and cutely chews it while Thranduil ponders his response. 

_Curse_ would be a crude term for something so _endearing_ , and indeed, when Thranduil heard of this affliction, he knew the sight would please him. It does, as it must have any who saw Meludir enter. A new set of fluffy ears has risen from Meludir’s head, not unlike the downy tufts of a squirrel, but the long, bushy tail that protrudes from the small of his back is more akin to a fox, only coloured to match his hair. The rest of him appears unaffected—the same creamy, pale skin beneath his dark uniform and the same sweet, awed expression that crosses his pleasant face whenever he’s near his king. No other difficulties were reported—no loss of mind or skill. Thranduil careful eyes the new stretches of fur while the party holds its breath, and Meludir’s tail gives in to a little twitch.

That decides it. The tail wants to _wag_ , Thranduil’s sure—he’s seen the same movement in the uncouth animals the Men of Laketown keep for pets. With a quick gesture of his hand, Thranduil announces, “Dismissed,” and Tauriel bows her head respectively, turning to collect her guards.

She leaves Meludir, of course, and Meludir stands still as his peers filter out around him. Thranduil waits until the guards are past earshot before he drawls, “Come closer; I wish to examine this myself.”

Meludir breathes, “Yes, my king,” with thinly veiled excitement. He walks swiftly forward, diverting to the winding stairs that lead up to the throne, where only a narrow ledge is left for him to kneel on. He sinks down anyway, tucking neatly between Thranduil’s spreading legs, and he ducks his head again to put his ears on display. Thranduil reaches out to stroke one. It earns a hitched, breathy gasp, and causes him to scratch behind it, which results in a desperate sort of mewl. 

The fur is soft to the touch, warm and clearly now a _part_ of Meludir. Thranduil meticulously traces each line of each ear, rubbing gently as he goes to make the study pleasant. Meludir seems to shiver beneath him, cooing and quietly whimpering, obviously inclined to Thranduil’s ministrations. His tail even begins wagging behind him, and when Thranduil finally earns a strangled cry, Meludir pants, “Ah, I am sorry, my king.” His eyes are already thickly dilated, pretty face painted in a blush. He looks to have lost himself—something Thranduil always enjoys inspiring. 

He murmurs in response, “You know, my loyal subject... I have, in fact, wanted a pet for some time.”

Meludir lets out a filthy moan hardly befitting one of the royal guard. Then he nuzzles wantonly into Thranduil’s thigh, all but begging, “Please, my king. I would be honoured!”

With a fond chuckle, Thranduil leans back in his chair. Meludir’s face wilts at having Thranduil no longer bent over him, but Thranduil keeps one hand in Meludir’s hair and resumes slowly stroking him. It lights Meludir back up. With a contented sigh, Thranduil muses, “I believe I shall enjoy this while I ponder what next to do of it.” When worry flickers across Meludir’s face, Thranduil bids, “Speak.”

And Meludir mumbles quietly, “My king... if this is to be my place now... please, do not cure me.”

Thranduil chuckles again. He does think on how to right this situation. It’s always good to know one’s options.

But he doesn’t think he’ll exercise them any time soon.


End file.
